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His white shirt gaped slightly, revealing the strong column of his throat, and his waistcoat had been set aside, leaving him in just his shirtsleeves. One stocking was missing, and she caught a glimpse of a muscled calf dusted with hair where his breeches rode up. Caroline quickly tore her gaze away, feeling warmth creep up her cheeks.

This is simply a test, Caroline! You are to prove you have matured into a sensible woman, she reminded herself firmly.

Clearing her throat, she resumed humming her carol while her fingers worked on the boughs. What a relief that she had brought something to do! Even now she could feel his eyes watching her, but she paid him no mind. Once she was done with this, she had more work to occupy herself with. She would prepare a poultice for his ankle following the doctor’s instructions, then tidy the kitchen. If she kept herself occupied, she could get through the evening unscathed.

Caroline’s eyes widened in sudden horror, her humming halted. She had not considered where she would be sleeping tonight. William would likely remain on the settee since the narrow, steep flight of stairs would be impossible with his swollen ankle. But where did that leave her?

Biting her lip, she glanced around the sitting room, her fingers ceasing to work until she glimpsed the second settee. It was large enough for her to rest upon, though not terribly comfortable.

Across the room, William followed her gaze and, for the first time since she met him, a smile spread across his face. It was devastating—a flash of white teeth startling in contrast to his dark beard—and Caroline found herself struggling for breath as she focused on the lips she had noticed before. It was not often he smiled, but when he did, it transformed his entire face, softening the harshness of his features.

“You are wondering where you will sleep?”

Speechless, her tongue tied by her embarrassing thoughts, all she could do was nod.

“Perhaps before you decide that, you might want to draw the drapes.” He gestured to the window where she was working.

Stricken, Caroline spun her head round to stare out at the deserted street in dismay. She could only hope no one had walked by. Standing in haste, Christmas boughs scattering to the floor, she jerked the blue curtains shut and then hurried to the other window to shut those as well.

There she stood, hands clasped before her, cheeks flushed with mortification.

“No one saw you.” William’s husky voice broke the silence.

“Are you certain?”

“I am. I have had a clear view of the windows since you walked within view. Caroline … I want you to know that if any of this damages your reputation … I would do the right thing.”

Caroline stopped breathing. That was the last thing she had expected to hear. In all her years, no man had ever offered such a thing. Even if it was merely to protect her reputation, it was still…noble.

The attractive blacksmith, who secretly took care of old ladies, was now offering to be a gentleman and marry her if her reputation suffered? She did not need any more reasons to admire the man. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the notion of what it would be like to be his wife. To sit across from him at the breakfast table. To see him coming in from the forge, his sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from the day's work.

“You want to … marry me?”

Several seconds passed, the crackle of the fire the only sound breaking the silence. Finally, he replied, his reluctance evident. “I would prefer not to marry, but if it were required, we could come to an arrangement.”

Caroline slowly resumed breathing. “I … appreciate it. But as you said, no one was out there to witness my presence.”

Had he just offered to marry the woman?

William shook his head slowly after Caroline left the room, mumbling something about preparing a poultice. What a foolish thing to say. Yet, he supposed he would do it—if it came to that. He could not stand by and allow a fine woman of Caroline’s quality to suffer harm for doing him a good deed. He could not allow it for any woman, but especially not the lovely mantua-maker—modiste, he corrected himself—who had impressed his fellow townsmen with her skill and industry.

Life had taken an odd turn since the day he first saw her beckoning little Annie Greer into her shop. He never would have imagined himself learning the difference between a modiste and a mantua-maker, yet here he was, thinking of it.

From the kitchen, he heard her begin to hum again. The tune was familiar—cheerful, lighthearted. So was she. Her alarm at discovering the curtains still open had at first seemed amusing, but it had swiftly turned serious. The fear on her face—genuine fear—had struck him like a hammer. It was easy for a man to forget how dangerous even the appearance of impropriety could be for a woman alone. And for a woman in trade, her livelihood could vanish with one misplaced whisper.

He lay back and closed his eyes, letting the hum of her voice blend with the sound of boiling water. The quiet movement in the kitchen, the gentle melody—these things soothed him more than he expected. He had long dreaded the holidays for the memories they brought. But having someone here, even for a day, was a strange comfort.

Just for tonight. Tomorrow she will be gone.

Caroline returned with the poultice supplies on a tray. She set them on the table and took a seat, her movements gentle and purposeful. The doctor had removed William’s stocking earlier, so she now unwound the bandage with delicate care. Her humming continued, a balm in itself.

“I am sorry you have to spend your holidays nursing me,” William said quietly.

Her hazel eyes met his. “It is quite all right, William. I was working, as it happens.”

A faint smile touched his mouth, though it saddened him that a woman such as she—so capable, so warm—should be alone this night. She ought to be surrounded by children and laughter, not tending to a surly blacksmith.

She wrinkled her nose as she dipped cloth into warm vinegar. “My word, the spirits in this mixture are strong! Quite enough to take one’s breath away.”